The Shifts of Motherhood

Hi my friend,

Lately I've been thinking
about how quickly children 
grow up.

One moment you're 
wrapped in the baby life…

Kissing the top
of their tiny head
as you sway back and forth,
trying to soothe their cries.

Not wanting them to grow up,
but at the same time wishing
you could slip away to 
a quiet cabin…

just to be alone 
for a second.

You learn to open 
doors and drawers 
with your feet.

You never knew how much
you could do with just
your feet.

And then, 
when they're finally asleep,
you're clipping fingernails so small
you're afraid of cutting too far,
and rushing to fold endless 
piles of tiny laundry.

It feels like a never-ending cycle
of feeding, cleaning, tending…
always pouring yourself
into their precious world.

And then one day,
you wake up -
and they've grown.

Milestones 
have arrived quietly,
one after another.

They're not babies anymore.
They're children -
with their own minds,
and voices so loud.

They don't want to be 
babied anymore, but they still 
want their mom.

Just in a new way.

To play dress up.
And build legos.
Until it's time to snuggle up,
and read from their favorite book
for the 100th time.

The one you no longer actually read
but perform from memory…
secretly hoping they'd 
choose something else
next time.

By now you already sense
that if there is something 
they love -
you'll soon know it 
by heart.

Because all of their favorite 
songs, cartoons, and stories…
are living on repeat.

But then before you know it
it happens once more…

One day you wake up 
and they've grown 
some more.

They're starting school,
packing their own bags,
and making new 
friends.

They don't need you
the way they once did.
But they still 
need you.

To stand steady at the school door,
while their hand is gripping yours 
so tightly that it aches.

But that same afternoon,
they resist leaving
because they're having 
so much fun.

You become less 
of their center,
and more of their
anchor.

Someone they can count on, 
even when they don't notice 
you're there.

And it's bittersweet -
to regain the freedom 
you once longed for, 
while letting go of their 
little hand. 

But you adjust to it. 
You grow into this 
new role.

Until one day you wake up…
and they're almost 
teenagers now.

The car rides home
are filled with silence
and your questions 
fall flat.

You're no longer 
the person they look up to. 
(At least not while you're looking.)
You're just their mom now.

But at night,
when the lights are out
and the day is starting to fade,
they open up to you.

Words spilling into the dark,
conversations carrying on and on,
long past the time you've said -
it's getting late.

They share their hearts 
and sweet laughter 
with you… 

But before their eyes 
close for the night, 
they hug you tightly and 
softly whisper - 

mom, I love you.

And you know that even then…
they still need you.

Only in ways 
you are just beginning 
to learn.

With love,
Elina